


Fine Timing

by Goldy



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-28
Updated: 2014-07-28
Packaged: 2018-02-08 19:09:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,437
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1952727
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Goldy/pseuds/Goldy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ten and Rose spend the night at Jackie’s. Well, they try to, at least.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fine Timing

The Doctor had experienced more than his fair share of unpleasant sleeping arrangements—a notable one included a bog in the dead of winter—but the couch in the Tyler’s flat _really_ added new meaning to the word ‘uncomfortable.’

He knew it could only go downhill when Jackie thought it would be hilarious to give him sheets with Disney princesses on them (he would not judge Rose—no, he wouldn’t—he was better than that). Naturally, as soon as they all turned in, the couple on the next floor up began screeching at each other loud enough to send dust cascading down from the ceiling. Then the kitchen sink started dripping with a dull metallic clang precisely every four seconds (he knew because he counted).

 _And_ the pillows were lumpy.

He flung an arm over his eyes and released a pent-up sigh. He didn’t understand what happened. He had told Rose, quite vehemently, that they would absolutely _not_ be spending the night at the Powell Estates. He remembered because he repeated himself twice. And somehow, Rose got her way. Honestly, he didn’t know why he ever bothered to argue in the first place.

 _Clang_. He swore, the dripping was actually getting _louder_. Well, he supposed he did have the sonic screwdriver on him. The least he could do was fix Jackie Tyler’s leaky sink. It was certainly better than staring blankly at the ceiling.

He dropped his arm back to his side and yelped.

It was Rose. He didn’t know how she’d managed to sneak up on him. What good were Time Lord senses if they went haywire from the slightest leaky sink distraction?

She peered down at him, dressed in a flannel pair of pajamas. She’d obviously just stumbled out of bed because her hair hung in a tangled and knotted mess.

The first thing that popped into his head was _adorable_ , but what came out was some gargled version of, “Um, what are you doing?”

She blinked at him through sleepy eyes. “Well, come on. Move over.”

“I’m sorry?”

“Move over,” Rose said, slowly, like he was daft. She raised her eyebrows and nudged his arm. “Kind of hogging the whole couch at the moment, Doctor. No room for me.”

He frowned. “I hate to be the one to point this out while you are clearly having a moment of temporary insanity—” he paused to take a breath, “—but your mother is in the next room. Probably wide-awake. Expecting something _exactly_ like this.”

She only stared at him until he gave in. He mumbled to himself and then shifted over to one side, holding up the covers as an invitation.

Rose wiggled under the blankets with him, fidgeting until she got comfortable. One of her elbows dug painfully into his side and he resisted the urge to point out that the Tyler living room couch was far smaller than any bed in the TARDIS.

She rolled over, one of her hands stilling on his arm. She flashed him her widest smile and said, “That’s better.”

He didn’t really think it would be ‘much better’ come morning when Jackie woke up to find them canoodling on the couch, but what could he do? He was bored out of his mind on his own. Not to mention, this habit of theirs was frighteningly regular. Rose’s bedtime meant cuddling. There. End of story. Immutable. Full-stop.

It started happening sometime after Rose had her face swallowed. He initiated it on the pretense of wanting to make sure she hadn’t suffered any serious long-term affects. Besides, this incarnation seemed particularly affectionate, and since Rose was the best thing to cuddle _with_ , the idea seemed rather brilliant.

At first, they’d used excuses—nightmares, it was cold, that sort of thing. Then, after meeting the Beast, after almost losing her—it just became something they _did_. They weren’t ever going to sleep alone again, not while the other was nearby.

It was all perfectly innocent, of course. Mostly. There had been a few light kisses, hands once or twice brushing certain things by accident. And one memorable occasion when he licked the crevice of her ear. (Well, it _had_ been there, and for some reason he thought it was integral to know what it tasted like.)

Point was, it was nice. Very nice. Not even worth giving up to avoid Jackie’s wrath.

“Doctor?” Rose whispered. “You still awake?”

He diplomatically refrained from pointing out that as a superior species, he didn’t need “sleep” in the same way humans did.

“Yes,” he said.

Her voice was hesitant. “What did you mean before, when you said something was coming?”

He glanced at her in surprise and then turned his gaze to the ceiling. Tiny fissures in the paint zigzagged out from the corners. He took a breath.

“Oh—you know me—always going on about something.” He turned back to her and forced a smile. “Rose, there’s always something.”

Her fingers grabbed into his arm, pushing down hard. “Is it connected to what that thing said—that Beast—when he said I’d die in battle?”

“Rose.” He leaned back and met her eyes. “That’s not going to happen. I won’t let it.”

“So it is connected, then,” Rose said. She didn’t look scared; only settled back down against him, ear pressed to his chest.

“Come on,” he said. “That thing—able to see the future? Impossible. I’m a Time Lord, Rose, and even I can’t always predict what’s going to happen. You’re not some _pawn_ on the chest board of fate. It’s _your_ future. Just because some demon calling himself the devil tried to unnerve you doesn’t make it true.”

She smiled, relaxing her vice-grip. She seemed to believe him.

Her next question surprised him. “What do you suppose Mickey’s doing now?”

He blinked at her. He could understand her fear of what was coming—he could even understand dwelling on something calling itself the devil, but it had been months since they’d so much as thought about Mickey.

“I don’t know,” said the Doctor. He wanted to ask if it mattered, but he suspected Rose wouldn’t take too kindly to the question.

“You don’t stop to wonder?” Rose whispered. “Not ever? All those people you’ve traveled with… and you never think about what they’re doing?”

He didn’t respond. She already knew the answer.

“Well, I hope he’s doing okay,” Rose said after a pause. She lifted herself up on one arm and peered down at him. “And what about me? Will you think about me after I’m gone?”

“Rose, you’re not—”

“It’ll happen _one_ day,” she said. “I mean, I’m not planning on leaving, but life like this. I just…”

Instead of answering her, he leaned in to kiss her. She froze and then relaxed, kissing him back. Her hands came up to frame his face, body shifting so she could lean into the kiss.

It might have been cowardly of him—using a kiss so he wouldn’t have to put it into words. But it was easier that way.

She seemed to understand because she pulled away, resigned smile on her face. Her knuckles stroked one side of his face.

“Doctor…” she began softly. Then she blushed and ducked her head. He saw her nibble at her bottom lip and he felt quite certain he knew what she was trying to ask.

“Well, come on, then,” he said after a pause. He sat up and threw his legs over the side of the couch.

Rose grabbed the back of the couch to keep from falling over. “What—what do you mean?”

He stood and held out a hand. “If we’re going to follow this through, it’s probably best we head back to the TARDIS, eh? Might unexpectedly have to regenerate again if we stay here.”

He nodded in the direction of Jackie’s bedroom.

Rose’s eyes lit up in understanding. Her smile was shy, but hopeful.

“Are you sure about this?” she said. “I mean, can you even…?”

“Oh, can I?” he said. “Have you _seen_ me? Humanoid male form, Rose. Honestly.”

She giggled. “I just thought—”

“Can’t say it’s a priority,” he said. “You lot—you _do_ only have some thirty years to reproduce in. No wonder it’s the only thing you think about.”

“So what you’re saying is,” Rose said. “You think of yourself as somehow ‘above it all,’ is that it?”

“Essentially, yes,” he admitted. She narrowed her eyes at him and he cleared his throat. “But with the right person… Rose, that’s not something to run from.”

He bit down on his tongue, suddenly quite certain that if he continued, he’d blurt something stupid like: “So I’d like to take you back to the TARDIS and have my way with you.” As a Time Lord, he was certainly much subtler than that. It was _Rose_ and he wasn’t just some—some inappropriately sexually crazed teen. He _needed_ her to know how important she was even if he could never seem to just… say it.

He waited breathlessly, and finally Rose reached out to grasp his fingers.

***

Outside, crisp London air ruffled through their hair. He looked up, squinting at the bleak emptiness of the sky. Honestly—humans and their cities. Some of them could go their entire life without seeing a single star.

Rose was still wearing her pajamas, but she’d taken the time to stuff her arms into a jacket. She skipped next to his side, trying unsuccessfully to bite down on a smile.

He glanced at her. “What is it?”

“Can’t believe we’re doing this,” Rose said. “Sneaking out of the house—just so we can have a _shag_. Used to do something similar with that prat Jimmy Stone all the time.” She smiled fondly at him. “Suppose some things never change, do they?”

He blushed at the word “shag.” He was suddenly glad it was too dark for Rose to see him properly.

“Yes, well,” he said—eloquently. He also very impressively refrained from asking who Jimmy Stone was. He had the feeling he didn’t want to know.

“You do have a knack for timing,” Rose said. “On the _one_ day we go back to visit my mum. She’s going to flip if we’re not back in the morning, you know.”

“I have perfect timing!” he said.

Rose laughed and then leaned up against his side to plant a messy kiss on his cheek. “You know what? I wouldn’t change anything about you, not for the entire world. Bad timing and all.”

He turned around and she stopped, eyes glinting in the light of the nearby street lamp. “Could say the same about you,” he said.

He was rewarded with a grin. And then they were kissing again—more emphatically this time. Right out in the streets of London, outside the Powell Estates. Right where anyone could see them.

He had the entire world at his fingertips—entire universes—and it all seemed so irrelevant. He could touch all of time and space, but the place he most wanted to be was with Rose, caught in this moment. He didn’t know _why_ he hadn’t done this earlier. It all seemed so very simple.

“Hey,” Rose pulled away and narrowed her eyes at him. “We have a TARDIS to get to. Keep your paws to yourself, yeah?”

“You kissed _me_ ,” he said. He had no idea if this was true, but Rose raised her eyebrows and grabbed his hand.

“Come on,” she said.

He tugged her back to kiss her again and she didn’t protest.

They made it to the TARDIS eventually. It just took them a while.

***

A few hours later and he was wide-awake, wandering down the TARDIS’s long corridors with his hands stuffed in his pockets. He couldn’t believe it. Of _all_ things to happen—he’d gone and lost her in the TARDIS.

Been known to happen now and again—though, not since his regeneration. He’d long since suspected that Rose and his ship had formed some sort of bond after she’d rescued him on the Game Station.

Which meant… maybe Rose didn’t _want_ to be found.

He stopped; one hand held out in front of him. That didn’t quite… fit. Humans—they were supposed to be predictable. He and Rose had, after all, been rather… intimate. He expected her to stick around afterwards for a blissful spoon—a few _kisses_ , in the very least. She’d never turned down a cuddle before.

Well, it wasn’t like she’d taken off _immediately_ —no, that wasn’t Rose. But her vague explanation about wanting a glass of water had been dodgy at best. She’d even ignored him when he tried to point out that her pajama bottoms were torn and dirtied from the short walk from the Powell Estates.

He frowned. He refused to feel _used_ , of all things. That was… pointless. He knew how she felt about him.

He closed his eyes and focused. The TARDIS hummed in response. _Fat lot of good you are_ , he thought.

There was a gentle reassurance from his ship in the back of his mind. He raised his eyebrows.

 _Rose really is lost_. Hmm. Interesting, that.

He moved forward, trying to sense the quiet hum of his ship. Usually if he focused, the TARDIS would lead him to Rose. At least, that’s how it worked in his previous incarnation.

But _why_ would she be getting lost now? It had been understandable, at first. Humans always needed time to adjust to the TARDIS. They lived their entire lives in two dimensions, existing in a small house or flat that was completely visible to the human eye. The TARDIS wasn’t like that. There were parts of the TARDIS even he hadn’t fully explored yet.

The potential answer worried him and he pushed forward—around one corner, down a staircase, through one closet, around the bend, along a corridor…

Finally he found her in the third kitchen, miles away from the console room. To the best of his knowledge, she’d never visited before. Must have arrived by accident.

“Rose.” His voice betrayed his relief, and he braced one hand on the door.

She was sitting cross-legged on the counter, elbows braced on her knees, delicately nibbling at a chocolate chip cookie.

“Doctor?” she sat up straighter, brightening. “Took you a while.”

“Yeah. Well.” He swallowed, pushing past all those strange doubts and fear. He was a _Time Lord_. He had no _reason_ to be insecure. “How did you get here?”

She shrugged. “I was hungry.”

They stared at each other. He felt his lips twitch.

“What,” Rose said, “you didn’t think I’d just take off on you after we…?”

“No,” he said quickly—too quickly. “No. Why would I? That’d be—pointless. Speculation. And… well. Here you are.”

Rose set down the cookie and slid off the counter. A few seconds later, she had her arms wrapped around him, and he buried his nose in her neck, breathing heavily.

“It was just…” Rose squeezed him tighter. “Sometimes I look at you—and it’s just… it’s so much. It’s feeling so many things, Doctor. And I just sort of thought… ‘God, I really need a chocolate chip cookie.’”

He snorted. She brushed one hand through his hair, warm breath brushing against his ear.

Hanging onto her like this, her arms around his neck—it made the Time War fade into the background, to only a small ache. It dulled the lonely white noise in his mind, the pain of being the last of his kind.

Going on adventures, saving the universe—it helped make him forget. But holding onto Rose made him _stronger_ , reminded him why he wanted to survive.

He thought about saying it. _I love you_. But it had been so long. He could travel to any point in time, but hadn’t been lying when he said he couldn’t predict the future. _(Something in the air. Something coming.)_ It frightened him. There was too much to lose.

Rose pulled away and then cupped his face with both hands, peering worriedly into his eyes. He stared back. He wasn’t hiding anything. Honestly, he wasn’t.

She nodded, biting at her bottom lip. She seemed to sense his thoughts.

“Was it any good?” he whispered.

She stared at him blankly. “What?”

“The _cookie_ ,” he said. “Any good?”

She laughed. “Yeah. Want one?”

Never say ‘no’ to sugar, that was his policy. Good thing, sugar.

“Yeah,” he said.

She tugged on his hand and they curled up on the floor, box of cookies resting comfortably on one of his knees. Rose leaned her head on his chest and yawned a few times.

“I knew it,” he said. “You _did_ want to cuddle.”

She blinked and then rolled her eyes. “Speak for yourself.”

But she made no move to leave, which he appreciated. He liked having a warm, relaxed Rose Tyler sprawled out across his chest, even if the tiling from the kitchen floor was a bit nippy against his rear-end.

**

In the end, he had to take the TARDIS back a couple of hours so they could sneak back into the Tyler flat without being noticed. Any luck and Jackie would have no idea they’d even _left_.

Which would have been a brilliant plan—had he not mucked up the navigation and arrived early-afternoon instead of early-morning.

Ah, well. He did do his best.

“Come on, mum, it’s not _that_ big a deal,” Rose said. “Came back, didn’t we?”

The Doctor added a supportive “hmm” from behind Rose’s shoulder and then pretended to be engrossed in the magazines littered across the coffee table. Best to let Rose handle the situation. Seemed like she was perfectly in control.

“Just once, the pair of you show up and there _isn’t_ an alien ship invading London,” Jackie said. “So what was it you were _doing_?”

The Doctor jerked his head up from a copy of ‘Hair and Nails’ and glanced at Rose. She opened her mouth and made a few gargling noise before shutting it. Finally, she glanced at the ceiling and gave a small shrug.

“Um,” the Doctor said. “Infestation—rats. That’s it. Rats. An entire family of… rats. Started eating out the inside of the console. Nasty things, rats. Might even have pulled the TARDIS into some sort of time vortex loop. Could have destroyed the world. Had to… stop it. Very important. Right, Rose?”

He nudged her in the shoulder. “Yep,” she said. “Big… rats. Huge.”

Jackie put her hands on her hips and narrowed her eyes. “Maybe you should invest in a cat. Good at catching rats. Means you don’t have to pop out in the middle of the night to take care of the problem.”

She looked at them each in turn and the Doctor widened his eyes in an attempt to look as innocent as possible.

“Fine, then,” she said. “Rats it is, but not during the few hours when I actually get to visit with the two of you, you hear me?”

They swallowed.

“Yes, Mum,” Rose said. The Doctor nodded profusely to show his agreement.

Jackie turned around to head back into the kitchen, but then she paused, nailing the Doctor with a fierce stare. He stood up straighter and fiddled nervously with his collar.

“And you better be careful,” she said. “You get her pregnant with your alien offspring and I’m going to kill you.”

He stammered, but managed to choke out something that sounded like, “Right.”

He thanked his luck when she left them alone after that, but when he glanced at Rose, she was fighting to hold back a giggle.

“Alien offspring,” she said between gasps of air. “As if it’d be, I don’t know, hairy and green or something.”

They looked at each other and then burst into laughter.

“No, Rose, this—this is serious,” he said, but she only laughed harder, hanging onto his arm to keep from falling over.

“You just _had_ to muck up the time,” she said. “Honestly, can’t you ever get it right?”

“ _You_ try having all of time and space at your fingertips!” he said. “I do my best!”

That set them off again.

It was only after he’d managed to control his laughter that he was hit with the full force of what happened. He was probably lucky to escape with his tenth incarnation still intact.

“Blimey,” he said to Rose, who was snorting in her pained attempts to draw in a breath. “Seen a lot of things in my time. Gods and devils among them—just last week, even ended up in a child’s drawing. But that— _that_ was terrifying.”  



End file.
